


From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed

by onvavoir



Series: I'll plead the fifth on all of this [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Sam Wilson, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onvavoir/pseuds/onvavoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Netflix and chill, in big fat quotation marks. </p><p> </p><p>And if you've never seen Fringe, I highly recommend it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed

Bucky isn't really sure what 'Netflix and chill' is, and when he asks, Sam just laughs at him for a couple of minutes and makes yet another crack about him being an old man. So he Googles it. He doesn't understand why Sam didn't just say he wanted to have sex, but there's a lot about 21st century relationships that he doesn't understand. Maybe it's a game, like the way that Steve pretends to be shocked when Bucky says something nasty to him, only to lose his goddamn mind when Bucky actually does it.

But Sam drops onto the sofa with an actual bowl of popcorn, which makes Bucky suspect that it might not be a pretence after all. He drapes himself across the corner of the sofa and waits to see what Sam does.

"So, what's it gonna be," Sam asks. "Fringe, Leverage, or Orange is the New Black?"

"I only understood about half those words."

Sam sighs.

"Just pick one."

"Um. Fringe. What's it about?"

"Weird shit," Sam says, pulling it up.

"Weirder shit than we deal with?"

Sam pauses to consider.

"Equally weird shit."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. He tucks his feet under him and grabs a handful of popcorn.

"Is this another one of those shows about cops? Why are there so many of those?"

He hasn't mentioned to Sam the way that authority figures-- cops, soldiers, politicians, doctors-- still make his skin crawl. He's pretty sure that wouldn't leave him with very many things to watch. And if he gets uncomfortable he knows he can climb into Sam's lap. Maybe that's what it's all about-- like watching a horror movie with someone so they cling to you.

"Look, just watch the damn show."

"What's precognition?" he asks. "And dark matter?"

Sam hits the pause button, rolls his eyes upward and then looks over at Bucky, who bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Somehow he manages to keep a straight face.

"What? I'm old, remember? And I'm from Brooklyn. I don't know what any of these fancy words are."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal: all your questions will be answered, but you have to shut the fuck up first."

Bucky disguises his amusement with a deep frown.

"How many episodes are there?"

"About a hundred."

"A hundred?! Jesus."

"We're not gonna watch them all _now_ , for--"

The facade cracks a little, the slightest snort of laughter, and Sam gives him a dirty look.

"Why do I even bother with you."

He resumes the show, and Bucky quiets. Someone's in a mental institution, which makes his hands curl into fists. Cages and bars, men with guns-- and then a hospital. He shifts closer to Sam, rests his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Oh look, he also calls people _sweetheart_ when he's being a dick," Sam murmurs.

Bucky pokes him in the ribs and digs his chin into Sam's shoulder. The creeping unease doesn't improve, not with the spooky basement lab and scientific equipment, although the tank makes him wonder what sort of methods there might be to help him piece his mind back together, to purge the Hydra programming. _You lose so much in a place like that_. He frowns, pierced by a strong sense of pity for the crazy scientist. Flashes of light, the blonde woman being pulled from the tank, and Bucky has to turn away and take a few deep breaths.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asks. "Look, she's got a robot hand too."

He glances at the screen as a woman with red hair reveals a cybernetic limb. Then there are police, and Bucky tenses up. Bucharest. Armed police in masks and tac gear. He closes his eyes for a second. _Whatever punishment you think I deserve, I assure you I have already endured it_. Bucky doesn't realise Sam's paused it until he scoops Bucky into his lap.

"Hey…" he says quietly. "You gonna ease up that grip on my shirt, or what?"

Bucky opens his left hand-- he hadn't realised it was clutching Sam's shirt hard enough to stretch it out of shape.

"Sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry. The medical shit freaking you out?" Bucky nods. "We should've watched something else."

Bucky sighs.

"I hate this shit. I'm such a goddamn mess."

Sam presses a kiss to his temple.

"Don't do that to yourself. I shoulda thought about it. I'm sorry, baby. We could watch a Disney movie, if you want. They got some cute animal shows too."

The hammering of his heart is easing, but he stays where he is.

"Just gimme a minute. I liked it, just… would've been better if I'd known. About the… science… shit."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I kinda like the mad scientist guy. I'm not sure I should, though. Is he a bad guy?"

He hates stuff where someone who was supposedly the hero's friend turns out to be a traitor. Sam chuckles.

"No, he's a good guy. Mostly. Hey, you okay?"

Bucky nods. He isn't, not really, but he's also not ready to articulate the tangle of garbage in his head. He's not even sure he can. It's too complicated. The physical comfort of sitting in Sam's lap is the opposite. Simple. Warm. Good. Bucky catalogues the layers to calm himself. He presses his nose into Sam's neck and breathes in. Soap, shea butter. The stuff Sam uses on his hair. Trace of fabric softener and the laundry detergent he uses. Cotton. The popcorn in the bowl, butter, salt, pepper. The quiet rise and fall of Sam's breath. Bucky puts his lips to Sam's neck and presses his tongue to taste Sam's skin.

Sam's breath catches.

"Sorry," Bucky murmurs. "Helps me calm down."

"What is it, a tactile thing?"

"Sort of. Smells. Taste. I can smell a lot."

Sam nobly resists any urge he might have to make a joke and instead takes one of Bucky's bare feet in his hands, massages a little.

"This help?"

He nods.

"Feels nice."

Bucky lets his head rest on Sam's shoulder while Sam massages the other foot. Sam's good with his hands. His thumbs roll under the ball of Bucky's foot. Bucky sighs and breathes Sam in again. He shivers a little as Sam's hand moves up his back beneath his shirt and hoodie. It's warm, and it grounds him. Now that they're quiet and not watching anything, Bucky realises there's something odd in his chest. It feels like something's trying to get out. He thinks about those movies with the aliens that burst from people's chests, but it's not like that. It's a good feeling. Is there an equivalent of those things, but with kittens? The thought makes him laugh so suddenly and so sharply that Sam leans back to look at him.

"Never mind," he says.

"You are so goddamn weird."

"I'm not the one using weird euphemisms for sex, Mr Netflix-and-chill."

Sam laughs.

"You actually looked it up. I meant it for real, though. Just picked the wrong show."

Bucky gets his arms around Sam's waist and squeezes him.

"We can watch some more later."

He turns his head to kiss Sam with a slow, deliberate press of his lips. When he opens his eyes, Sam's looking up at him. He tips his head to one side and kisses Bucky back, and the thumping of his heart starts up again, for different reasons this time. Sam's hand beneath his shirt moves down to slip under the waistband of his sweats and squeeze his ass.

"Do you _ever_ wear underwear?" Sam murmurs.

Bucky shrugs.

"If I feel like it."

He shifts so that he's straddling Sam's lap. Sam's hand moves to get a better grip, and then the other hand comes to join it. Bucky rolls his hips a little.

"Does it make me a terrible person if I say I'm tired?" Sam says.

"No. We could just go to bed, if you want." He kisses Sam's temple. "Or I could ride your dick."

"Oh, now, why you gotta say something like that?"

Bucky smirks.

"Just trying to be helpful. Givin' you some options."

"Tell you what, let's go to bed and negotiate from there."

Bucky stands and helps Sam up. Then he crouches down and throws Sam over his bionic shoulder.

"Hey!"

Grinning, Bucky pats him on the ass and heads to the bedroom.

"I don't have to tolerate this kinda manhandling," Sam says. "This is uncalled for."

And yet, his dick is hardening against Bucky's shoulder.

"Uh huh. Tell me more about how much you hate it."

He dumps Sam onto the bed, then pulls his hoodie off and tosses it aside.

"Is that my t-shirt?" Sam asks, although he knows damn well that it is.

"Take it back if you're so sore about it."

Bucky climbs into bed, on top of him, one knee in between Sam's thighs. He leans down for a kiss and nudges his other knee in, spreads Sam's legs before he realises what he's doing and stops.

"What?" Sam asks.

"This okay?"

"Yeah? Just-- come down here--"

Sam pulls him down, pressed against him, his knees on either side of Bucky's hips. He's still half-hard, and Bucky grinds against him to see if he can't make it all the way there.

"Still tired?" he murmurs.

"Don't sass me," Sam replies. "Tired of your mouth."

"You love what my mouth does."

"I love what it does when it's not talking. That was a hint, by the way."

Bucky nips at his earlobe and pulls gently.

"You love _me_ ," he teases.

Sam sighs.

"I've changed my mind. I hate you again."

"Mmhmm."

He breathes out on the shell of Sam's ear and flicks his tongue. He rolls his hips and the erection tenting his sweatpants against Sam's ass. Sometimes he likes to let himself think about what it might be like to fuck Sam, Sam's legs around his waist, buried in him, and he sighs.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Bucky murmurs.

Steve still hasn't really gotten the hang of this, but Sam's less bashful.

"God, what _don't_ I want," he says. "Wanna pull your hair while you suck my dick. Want you naked, riding my dick like a fucking porn star, wanna bend you over the bed and fuck you hard, wanna fuck that filthy mouth of yours and come down your throat."

Bucky nips at his neck again, and Sam writhes underneath him.

"Then you can sit on my face," Bucky rasps. "While I fuck you with my tongue, hold your hips and eat you out til you can't fucking breathe."

"Oh god… want you to fuck me--"

Sam cuts himself off and freezes. Bucky waits. He doesn't think Sam meant that, but he's realising that it doesn't make it any less sexy to hear. He looks down at Sam, who's doing his best not to meet Bucky's gaze. He's stopped moving.

"Hey," Bucky says, nosing at Sam's neck. "People say weird shit during sex. Don't worry about it."

Sam gives him a Look.

"What?" Bucky says. "You said you didn't like it."

"I don't!"

Bucky blinks. He doesn't much care one way or another, as long as they can get back to talking filthy and grinding against each other.

"I hate you," Sam grumbles.

"So does that mean you _do_ want it?" Bucky asks, baffled.

He doesn't intend it to be alluring, but the effect it has on Sam when his voice comes out a little raspy is… interesting. He noses at Sam's jaw.

"You know I'll do anything you want," he murmurs, then drops his voice to a whisper. " _Anything_."

Sam squirms. He's always been very clear: he does not like being fucked. Bucky isn't going to press the issue, even if Sam's actually being a little… Steve-ish about it. After all this time, the thought is startling, and burning low beneath it, sexy, and Bucky tries not to think too hard about how much he suddenly wants it. For Sam to say it, even if it's just his mouth getting away from him, is intoxicating. Bucky licks his lips.

"We don't… if you want to just talk about it… sometimes it's just nice to think about. Not do."

Bucky brushes his lips across Sam's. He looks up. Sam's watching him closely, on edge, and Bucky can't figure out just what his expression means. He sits up, brushes his hair out of his face. Some of it's come loose from the tie, so he reties it. He rolls over and pulls Sam on top of him to change the dynamic, shifts so that Sam's between his legs, lifts his head for a kiss. Sam tangles his fingers in Bucky's hair and rolls his hips. Bucky sucks on his lower lip, and Sam lets out a low guttural sound.

"Goddamn you," he murmurs. Bucky makes a questioning noise. "You just wanna hear me say it."

"Of course I do. It's fucking sexy. I don't care if we do it, just… I wanna hear you say it..."

Sam sighs.

"God, I want you."

"Mm."

He noses at Bucky's cheekbone, just in front of his ear, tugs at his hair.

"Want you to fuck me," he breathes. "God, I fucking… I need it. I see you fucking Steve, and-- do you know how fucking jealous I get? Do you _know?_ "

Bucky blinks. He's not sure if Sam's just saying it for effect, or if he really means it. Not that it matters too much, because it's making his dick hard like nothing else. Sam almost sounds angry about it, which makes a certain kind of sense. Bucky licks his lips, swallows the dryness in his throat.

"I want it," he whispers. "Do it slow, _so_ slow… just my tongue, licking and fucking you with that for hours, until you're a fucking mess, 'til you're wet and slippery and then get my fingers into you, so slow, and make you moan… then my cock. God, fuck you so slow and good… fuck, Sam…"

His fingertips dig into Sam's ass and knead. Sam lets his head drop for a moment.

"Do it," he breathes.

Bucky looks up at him, frowning a little. He really can't tell if Sam actually wants this or if it's just lust talking. Sam leans down and kisses him, slow and wet.

"I mean it. Fuck me."

Their eyes meet, and the look on Sam's face would make Bucky go weak in the knees if he weren't already lying down. It's a cousin to the look Steve gets on his face when he wants to be fucked, hooded and needy and maybe a little embarrassed about how much he wants it. Bucky sits up and throws his arms around Sam's neck, kisses him hard.

"I'll make you feel good," he promises.

"You better."

Bucky smiles. He can't quite believe this is happening, that Sam's pulling off his clothes and lying down on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, that _Sam wants Bucky to fuck him_. Bucky grabs the necessaries and leaves them lying nearby, climbs over him and kisses down his back, open-mouthed, savouring the way Sam writhes and arches, the taste of his skin. This at least they've done before. He knows what Sam likes, what makes him press his face into the bed and moan. That'll relax him a little. Bucky takes his time, leaves a couple of marks on Sam's ass with his teeth.

The first touch of his tongue makes Sam shiver all over. Bucky takes a breath to steady himself. Slow. He settles in, laps at Sam's skin, at his perineum, flattens his tongue and then pushes, feels Sam's ass tighten. Bucky spreads him open with his thumbs and tongues him a little harder. Sam breathes out, and then finally his body relaxes. Bucky can hear him whimpering, although it's hard to tell if it's because of what Bucky's doing or because of what he's planning to do. Bucky wants him to be ready, and he'll gladly eat Sam's ass all night if that's what it takes.

Long strokes of his tongue, and then Bucky watches for Sam's reaction as he traces after his tongue with his finger. Sam stiffens a little. Bucky stills. He presses a kiss to the back of Sam's thigh.

"We can stop…"

Sam takes a deep breath but says nothing. Bucky leans in to flick his tongue and fingers Sam again, just a little, teasing along with his tongue. He works his finger in slowly, so slowly, until Sam's gone liquid again and he's panting into the pillow. Bucky crooks his finger and works it in deeper, strokes and seeks until Sam gasps and seizes up again. He tongues, wet and messy, pushes in further, and that's it, Sam's whimpering now, pushing back against the strokes of Bucky's finger and tongue. Once he's sure Sam's comfortable, he eases in just the tip of his middle finger alongside the other to work at Sam's ass. The noise that comes out of Sam's throat makes Bucky go up on his elbows to check on him.

"Okay babe?"

His voice is hoarse.

"Yeah…" Sam says, his voice unsteady. "Yeah, I'm…"

"Here."

He grabs the bottle of lube and slicks up his fingers, pushes them gently but firmly back into Sam's ass and draws a moan from him that travels right down to Bucky's spine to his dick. He presses his lips to Sam's ass, the small of his back, his thighs. He works Sam open with relentless patience, tongue and fingers, until all four are buried in Sam's ass up to the last knuckle and Sam's wailing into the pillow. The muscles in his shoulders flex as he grabs at the sheets. There's a sheen of sweat on the small of his back.

Bucky's cock aches, caught beneath him on the bed and desperate for friction, but he can't rush this. He gives Sam a few more thrusts of his fingers, slow and easy, and then pulls himself up. He bites his lip as he rolls the condom on one-handed. He's already so close, but that's probably just as well for Sam. He pulls at Sam's hips with his free hand, gets him to lift his ass a little and nudges the head of his cock just underneath where his fingers are still thrusting, slowing as he edges his hips forward.

He takes a deep breath and lets his fingers slip out, presses the head of his cock against the maddening heat of Sam's ass and pushes, just a little. Just the head of his dick, but the heat of Sam's body around it takes his breath away.

"Oh god… fuck… Sam, babe, Sam, baby, honey, oh god…"

Sam doesn't seem to be capable of words anymore. He's making noises Bucky's never heard, and Bucky would stop to check on him if he weren't arching his back to push his ass back onto Bucky's dick. Past the initial resistance, Bucky slides the rest of the way in with a gasp, comes to rest with his hips against Sam's ass.

"Oh, fucking jesus," Bucky moans. "Oh god, Sam, fuck, Sam, I…"

Sam's back arches as he pushes back against him, and the hot tightness of his ass around Bucky's cock is maddening. The temptation to let his hips roll and fuck Sam hard makes Bucky bite his lip. He takes a breath to pace himself. Sam's not Steve. He's a little more… fragile. Bucky settles his elbows on either side of Sam's torso. Carefully, he pulls his hips back and then eases forward again. Sam cries out, and Bucky presses a kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Ok, Sam? Good for you?"

"Oh my god… yes… fuck… oh god, please, I can't…"

He's never heard Sam like this before, broken and begging, and a greedy little part of him files it away under the list of things Steve doesn't do but Bucky does. He stays in deep, slow, rocks his hips against Sam's ass and lets out a shuddering sigh at the impossible heat inside Sam's body. It turns into a whimper as Sam clenches around him again and pushes back to get him in deeper. Bucky lets himself be pulled in, lets Sam decide the pace. Slow and easy and gentle, a million miles from the way Steve wants it, it's sweet and aching, and Bucky's chest feels like it's collapsing.

"Sam, baby…" he whispers.

He wants to tell Sam he's close, but words suddenly seem impossible. Sam's body tightens around Bucky's cock, so hard it hurts, and he gasps. Sam trembles, his breath goes ragged, and he comes beneath Bucky in waves of tension and release. Bucky closes his eyes and waits it out. He breathes deep, and only when Sam settles again does he move his hips. Slow, because Sam must be overstimulated but god, he feels so _good_ , and Bucky presses a kiss to his shoulder again, another roll of his hips, and that's it. He comes hard, his breath hitching. He pumps his hips one more time as the wave rolls over him and feels Sam shiver beneath him. He lies there, stunned, until decorum and discomfort dictate that he ease his softening cock out of Sam's ass.

Sam makes a sound that might be a sob as Bucky slides out of him, and Bucky kisses the nape of his neck. He feels a little like sobbing himself. He shifts onto his side, spoons up behind Sam, and pulls him close, hugs him tightly.

"Baby, you were so good, so good…" he whispers into Sam's ear, his voice breaking. "Love you, love you so much…"

There's a beat of silence as Bucky's brain catches up with what his mouth's just said. Fuck it. He nuzzles beneath Sam's ear. There's a quake, and he realises Sam's laughing.

"Bet you say that to every dude you fuck," he murmurs, and Bucky laughs too.

"Don't ruin it, you prick."

That just sets Sam off again, until Bucky's got his face pressed into Sam's shoulder, giggling like a lunatic. He kisses Sam's neck and shoulder and hugs him again.

"You okay?"

Sam nods.

"Yeah. I'm. Okay."

Suddenly shy, Bucky buries his face in Sam's neck. He can't help it.

"Was it good?"

There's a pause, and then Sam laughs again.

"Well. I came harder than I've ever come in my life, so."

Bucky grins.

"Good."

"Just…"

"Hm?"

"This is gonna make me sound like such an asshole."

Bucky's pretty sure he knows what Sam's going to say.

"Don't tell Steve," they say, nearly in unison, and then they dissolve into giggles again.


End file.
